I am sitting in a little cafe watching my mother work today. My mother has her day job (working with students of Upstate) and her weekend job (scrapbook demoer / teacher at a local scrapbook store). All my life my mother has been creative. In Texas she worked from a closet full of craft stuff to working from the loft at her home that looks like Michael’s threw up all over her craft desk. Either way craft projects always infest the house! She is always relentlessly trying to find the new project. In other words, Mom is to crafts like an addict is to drugs!
She has always been that free spirit, flight by the seat of her pants, right-brained, creative woman who constantly clashed heads with her stubborn, detail oriented, left-brained, and structured daughter. She most defiantly worked her hardest to rub her magic onto me. Always stressing not to sweat the small stuff and every success comes after some failure (or as she insensately quoted, “we all make mistakes thats the way we learn,”). When it comes to creating she always had the upper hand. We goto creative places a lot (i.e. pottery painting, scrapbook stores, fabric shops, and any place that might carry the precious crafty project we are dying to try) and every time we go to create there is a stranger that walk up to speak of her talents. It is always the same answer with her when complemented on her project,
” Oh, it’s ok, ” she will say.
” OMG, mother! Get a grip,” I want to say to her! She could crap and make it look like the Mona Lisa. We love to do things together, but we are so different in our process that we butt heads while we create together. My nickname is anal when we do projects together (sweet and kind of warm feeling huh?) and her nickname is obnoxious.
Let me just grace you with the highlights of her crafting career. My mother oil paints scenes more accurately than a picture, photographs some of the most beautiful flowers/locations in the world, creates any kind of clothing you would want, is a master at coming up with scratch meals from just whatever might be in the pantry, always makes her own homemade cards (sorry Hallmark no more business for you), throws together scrapbook pages in less than a few hours, has stenciled almost every room in my grandparent’s house, and makes homemade gifts; just literally, only to name a few.

That is just a small example of Mom’s painting abilities!
I feel like maybe I got a small part of her enormous talent, but it is defiantly something I work at more than her. Even though we are worlds different, we create together; some times in complete silence! It is therapeutic with all that is awful in the world to just take some idea in your head and plaster it to paper. I know as an adult I always try to recreate that childlike imagination I remember having, which seemed to fade as I got older. So, I have to take the time from the chaos that surrounds me to make sure that I find that outlet to imagine again.
I know it has always been the people in my life that are complete opposites of myself that have taught me the most about life. My relationship with my mother is no difference and I feel like at this point in my life that is a blessing to realize. So for today, I know that even when she is pulling my chain she ultimately made me who I am. Not to bad for a days work , huh mom?!